


There is always something left to love

by LookingForwardtoEverything



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Everybody Lives, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26596921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LookingForwardtoEverything/pseuds/LookingForwardtoEverything
Summary: Quentin survives the Seam only to have a baby dropped uneremoiniously into the middle of all his trauma. He retreats to his dad's house where he, and the people that love him, begin the slow process of building something from the rubble.Really this is just because I love Eliot and Quentin as parents, I want to write them as many happy endngs as possible and my sister just had a kid so I filled with baby knowledge and Emotions.
Relationships: Margo Hanson & Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater & Julia Wicker, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	There is always something left to love

So, here’s the thing, there was never a good time to throw a baby in the vortex of fuckery that was his existence. Now was like objectively better than a week ago when ancient murder twins were buzzing around them like blow flies but he was self-aware enough to know that someone that woke up from a suicide attempt five days ago was not a prime candidate for the trials of single parenthood. Still, Poppy had apparently done the math and decided leaving a baby outside his hospital room with a note that just said “I lied, whoops ☹” was the best option. Who was he to question motherly intuition? So, he was adjusting. Less thinking about how nothing was fucking worth it and more thinking about how the hell he was going to change a diaper with hands that looked like regurgitated salami.  


Lipson was helpfully negligent, signing his discharge papers before the others came back from whatever bullshit world-ending drama was going on now. With more bandages and opioids than Fillory and ancient Egypt combined, Quentin limped out of the hospital and went the only place he could think of.  
His dad’s house was sort of a hazard post-Monster so it was easy to sell a sob story with vague details and multiple implausible disasters to Doris the next-door neighbour. As predicted, she insisted on helping him with the baby. Barely an hour after he arrived, the lounge was cluttered with her children’s old stuff and the kitchen was barricaded with formula and frozen meals. Doris had doted on Quentin when he was younger, adults thought he was “an old soul” like every other kid with debilitating anxiety. But he got less cute and more distasteful as he grew up. He vaguely remembers a hushed conversation between Doris and his dad, something about his hoodies and delinquency and a mysterious garden gnome thief. It was, nevertheless, a soothing distraction to have Doris potter around the house, fussing over a broken beam in the hallway and the flooded bathroom. When evening came, she only left after he assured her that he would contact the insurance company first thing tomorrow and sort everything out.  


Then it was just the fool who kept failing to save the world and his most unfortunate offspring in the house of the father he had all but murdered. Jesus fucking Christ, his life was absurd. Like One Hundred Years of Solitude level of exhausting bullshit. Just give him a few handfuls of dirt or a firing squad. Except that was exactly the kind of thought he couldn’t afford anymore. Never mind every horrible thing trembling inside him, there was shit to do.  
With shaky diligence, Quentin set up wards around the room so the roof wouldn’t collapse on their heads and then folded himself over the couch. The baby was much quieter than Teddy ever was. Only whimpering every few hours for a feed and quickly self-soothing through any distress. Quentin…Quentin could barely look at her. He kept her curled across his chest with her head tucked against his chin. He felt every tiny breath in his bones and thought of how she deserved so much more than ruins and a broken man.  


In the morning, he called Julia.


End file.
